Forsythia
by The Humble Mosquito
Summary: Artemis is now 21, and life's events have taken their toll. Morality is something that he disposed of long ago. [Nommed for best Overall, best Short and best Drama at the Orion Awards]


**Disclaimer: **Artemis Fowl and co are the creations of Eoin Colfer. Not me.

**Dedication**:To The White Lily. You thought of the idea, then you produced the most unbelievable beta in one day, _then_ you spent hours and hours working through it with me. You are brilliant. Too brilliant, in fact,for your own good!

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**FORSYTHIA**

_Once, in a distant universe,  
I saw a man,  
Squirming for life,  
Under the weight of a tremendous mound  
My heart called out, who are you? What's wrong?  
"Soul"  
He gasped for air  
My heart attempted to edge forward through the desert  
It met a wall  
My heart called out, who are you? What happened?  
"Soul"  
Suddenly my heart could move forward,  
Weeping softly,  
And saw that the mound of death was not made of rock, nor of sand.  
But of insignificant, worthless, labels.  
"Soul"..._

_And then there was black._

"Bring her in, Butler."

Artemis rubbed his black leather gloves together in glee. He looked around the cave-like studio he had created; it was probably his favourite room on the planet. This was going to be enjoyable, more enjoyable even than his previous activity: and extorting the return of a little of Jon Spiro's money from Amnesty International had been pretty damn enjoyable.

Butler looked up from the ground, startled for a moment, as if distracted from a very interesting carpet stain. His face was carefully blank and had a large burn on it, which served as a constant reminder as to what could happen if he didn't show Master Fowl adequate respect. What a cunningly disgusting move it had been to force him into self-punishment, but there was something far worse than that lingering in every instruction. Causing himself physical pain was nothing compared to the alternative. Nothing.

"Master Fowl, are you absolutely –"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Butler? Bring her in at once, unless you want –"

"Yes, sir." Butler bowed solemnly, and left the room.

Artemis knew that despite how much he disagreed with his employer's current set of moral values, Butler would never desert him. Artemis had found his ways to ensure his loyalty. A few years back, no one dominated Domovoi Butler; now, his honour had been discarded in place of a constant and total fear.

Artemis smiled to himself – only a truly powerful man could achieve something so impossible, but powerful he was.

It did not surprise him that he felt nothing but joy and excitement and fulfilment at the prospect of what was to come. Long ago, he would have not been able to do this.

Artemis was still unsure when the dramatic change had happened. In fact, now that he thought about it, there probably was no one moment; it happened gradually, until one day, he woke up and felt neither happy, nor unhappy, nor contented. On that morning he had realised that his last shred of morality had undoubtedly departed. And he shed no tear for it. He was far more efficient without emotions. Well, maybe not _all_ emotion. Anger and hatred definitely had their uses.

But when had he _first _started to shift towards his current state? Maybe it had been as he sat at his Mother's bedside, watching the life fade slowly out of her through cancerous cells, while the fairies had sat back like cowards, unwilling to save her. Or maybe it had been exactly a year to the day later, when his Father had hung himself above her grave, laden with bright yellow forsythias. Perhaps it was the first time he had killed in cold blood (his counsellor). Yes, that might be it; strangulation wasn't generally recognised in the medical community as a way to get more in touch with one's emotions. But maybe, just maybe, it had been as he took those first steps into seclusion, when he had retreated from the world of men and women, and had become truly alone with his pain and fury for company. Artemis liked to pretend he that he enjoyed solidarity, but that's all it was: pretence.

Butler walked back in, dragging Holly across the floor, and removed her blind-fold. Her face was battered and bruised and beaten, patches of blue and dark green highlighted areas of her skin, with drops of red trickling occasionally in-between. Her magic had long-ago run out after days of captivity. Her messy hair hung over her forehead, and her eyes only let in only the smallest ray of the cave's dim light. She looked demoralised and confused.

"Artemis?"

"If you address me by that name again, Miss Short, Butler will be forced to make you regret it."

"Artemis, what on -" Holly began, only registering what Artemis had said halfway through the sentence.

Artemis raised his hand to direct Butler.

"I wont, Master Fowl. I wont do it," he threw back.

"Do it at once. Or you know what will happen."

Butler winced and reluctantly threw a hand at Holly's face. It dropped moment, but when she looked up there was one extra trickle of blood on her face.

Artemis nodded at the further affirmation of his charge's obedience.

"Don't call me… _that. _Understand?"

Holly didn't reply.

"Do you understand, Miss Short?"

Holly thought for a moment, probably considering just how much her face was worth. It was just a name, after all.

"Yeah, I understand," she muttered bitterly.

"Good. Now, have a seat." Artemis gestured to a padded seat that bore a little resemblance to a dentist chair.

Holly eyed the chair dubiously, and then folded her arms, as if she were a stubborn, hormonal teenager.

"Don't make things difficult, Holly. I won't deny it: we're going to cause you excruciating discomfort. But, as they say: 'the sooner you start, the sooner it's over.'"

Holly winced at the thought, for she knew that if Artemis Fowl the Second wanted to cause her pain, he could and he would. She didn't move.

"Very well. Do the honours, Butler."

Butler picked Holly up off the ground, and she kicked and screamed and fought him with all her might, but she was like a mosquito biting helplessly at an amused yeti.

"I'm sorry, Holly, I'm so sorry."

"Do not apologise to the victim, Butler," Artemis chided, "It makes it feel that we are not united. And we are united, Butler, aren't we?"

"Yes, of course, Master Fowl."

"Excellent. Don't make me doubt your loyalty again, Domovoi, or Juliet will lose more than a mere finger."

Butler yearned to pull out his pistol and blow the prodigy's head off, but the moment he squeezed the trigger, he would be signing his sister's death warrant.

She was in lock up, guarded by mercenaries who cared for little but money, and none for human life. Even they didn't know where they were, only Artemis did. In this respect at least, it was similar Artemis' and Butler's current location – suffice it to say, one well placed text message or the absence of a weekly check in, and Juliet would be torn apart limb from limb, until all that remained was a mashed up mess of blood and bone lying in some abandoned cage, and no one but Butler and Artemis would be any the wiser.

Butler half threw Holly into the seat. He held her down with one hand, while condemning her with black straps around her body, with the free hand.

"Thank you," said Artemis pleasantly, "I'll take it from here; have a seat."

Butler nodded with the utmost, hidden contempt.

Artemis sat down behind his array of metallic consoles and panels; they looked out of place against the damp, black surrounding of the cave, but in truth, Artemis had wires and computer networks flowing around the dingy setting with more complexity than the most intricate spider's web.

He pulled a lever and the seat retracted downwards so that Holly was lying down flat with her eyes gazing into intensely dazzling lights on the ceiling.

"Ah, excellent. Now we can begin. Good morning, Miss Short!" Artemis sounded genuinely chirpy.

Holly said nothing.

Artemis coughed. "I said _good morning_."

Holly said nothing.

There was a loud bang and a flash, and Holly whimpered in pain, as blood started pouring out of Holly's shoe. Artemis had used his controls to fire a precision shot at Holly's foot from the ceiling.

"Hello, Miss Short," Artemis repeated.

…Holly said nothing.

"You know I can make that less uncomfortable for you," he said, pointing to her foot.

Artemis got up from his seat, and approached the bed, the tight leather of his gloves squeaked as he rested them on her foot.

"Or," he paused, "I can make it more uncomfortable for you."

He squeezed, tightening his skinless grip with every passing millisecond.

"Hello," she shrieked desperately, as the pain reached its peak.

"There we go." Artemis returned to his seat, and flicked another switch to run a piece of medical software; mechanical arms ascended from the side of the bed and set to work on Holly's foot. First, a needle injected her with anaesthetic, then pair of miniature robotic hands set about patching up the wound like expert surgeons.

"See, manners cost you nothing."

Artemis smiled to himself; everything was going to plan. He had managed to exert power over her, but he'd still managed to come across with a trace of humanity and, even more importantly, _mercy_.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said casually, "How have you been?"

"Fine, until I got abducted," she replied.

"Oh, I do hope I haven't upset any of your plans," he said with false sincerity. "If there's anything I can do to make your stay more relaxing…"

"Yes, you bastard. You can switch off those d'arvited lights, for a start."

"I'm sorry do you not like the illumination? And here's something for the 'bastard' comment."

Holly's entire body twitched violently, and she called out.

"Yes," Artemis said dryly, "you will find that those straps are excellent conductors of electricity, and you will also find that the shocks will get a great deal worse throughout proceedings."

Holly scowled. "You really are a bastard."

"Oh, what an unfortunate slip of the tongue, but it appears the message just isn't sinking in."

Once again, Artemis pressed one of a multitude of buttons, and once again, Holly's body shook from its very core.

"So, Holly, do you have any ideas as to why you might be sharing my company?"

"Because you're an evil son of a bitch?"

"Evil, yes. But I resent the inference about my late Mother's species; you condemned her to death, and now you casually disrespect her. Perhaps the current level of electrical current is no longer effective in influencing your tongue."

This time Holly yelped like an injured animal.

Artemis nodded with icy satisfaction, "I _told_ you they would get progressively worse. Do you not have _any_ control over your mouth?"

"It's called refusing to be oppressed. I'm playing the heroic prisoner, who would rather be a martyr than humour her abductor with submission."

Artemis face hardened, and his eyes lowered. "What are _they_ doing then," he said, gesturing to the mechanical arms, which were still busily patching up her foot.

Holly didn't say anything, but closed her eyes, almost as if she was trying to rest.

"Martyrs die, Holly; actors and fictional characters do not."

"Fictional villains separate themselves from their emotions; Artemis Fowl the Second doesn't," she quipped back.

"The twelve year old boy you knew once may not have done. He died a long time ago."

"Bullshit! If you have no humanity, why is my foot feeling better all of a sudden, eh? Tell me that."

"Do you want proof?" Artemis began to raise his voice. "Do you want proof?

Holly said nothing.

"I asked you a question, Holly. DO YOU WANT PROOF?" Artemis roared at her, standing up to his full height.

He was no longer a harmless mud-boy; no, he truly _was _a powerful man; all his victims feared him. They all saw that look in his eye, and Holly saw it now – that twinkle in his eyes that, in most, represented the excitement of youth, the casual enjoyment of some idle activity. But in Artemis it represented something rather different…

Artemis walked towards Holly, his face glowing red with irrational hatred. A look of sheer horror appeared on Holly's face, for she knew what Artemis was about to do to her was not going to be pleasant. And more than that, she knew she was dead. She didn't think it would be now, and she didn't know how. But just for a split second, Holly knew that with absolute certainty that she would never see the light of day again. All she could do was make a vague attempt to increase the odds in her favour…

Artemis gripped her neck with his sticky black claws pincering around her neck. Holly gasped for air, but she found none. Hs mind swam back to every murder he had committed, every woman he had raped, every helpless victim he had overpowered. And he felt good about it. He enjoyed the forceful reminisces. Before he knew it, Holly was unconscious, and he was laying into her with every ounce of his strength. He had let go of her neck; he wanted to deform her, he wanted her to be unrecognisable. She was he embodiment of everything he hated. She was his counsellor, she was some nameless, helpless teenager, she was a crippled old man.

And then – somehow – he was unconscious too.

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Artemis opened his eyes, expecting to see bright lights, but finding the cave's shades of greyish black, only just lighter than those he saw with his eyes closed. At once, he knew what he must do. There would be no more messing around, no more pointless anger; he would do the job he was here to do.

Butler, who was kneeling over him and, efficiently, but none too gently tending to his wounds, helped him to his feet and dusted him down.

"Thank you, Butler. You may leave us now – I'm going to get down to business."

"I'd prefer to stay."

"Fine. But if I hear so much as a squeak from you, Juliet's dead. It's as simple as that."

Butler nodded.

Artemis stumbled over a small rock, and back to his desk. He looked over at Holly, who was still unconscious from his attack – there was a simple solution to that. He shocked her, using the third highest burst.

Holly awoke, screaming.

"There will be no more futile conversation, Holly Short. I will ask you questions, you will answer them truthfully, or you will suffer. Is that one hundred percent clear?"

She agreed weakly, rubbing her head.

"Is your name Holly Short?"

Holly nodded, eyeing Artemis carefully.

"Out loud, please."

"Yeah. You know it is."

"Do you work for the LEP?"

"No. I quit seven years ago."

Artemis sighed and gave her another shock her. "Holly, let's dispose of the pretence that I don't know almost everything about your life. And suppose just for a moment that I didn't, my lie detector here would probably offer me the odd hint or two. You rejoined the LEP two years ago after the death of Ark Sool."

"If you think you know these things, why are you wasting my time?"

"To prove a point."

"Congratulations on an excellent presentation."

"No more banter, Short; I'll return to the purpose of this meeting."

Holly blinked once in synthetic indifference, but Artemis saw a glint in her eye: she was desperate for him to reveal his plan: he happily obliged.

"Since we last met, you have not only returned to the LEP, but also, through well connected friends and a large amount of public support, have risen to one of the top five posts in the entire organisation.

"To this end, you are one of only three people underground to know the encryption codes to Foaly's mainframe. I want those codes, and I want them now."

Holly raised her eyebrows. "And you thought that I'd be easier to extract information from than Foaly?"

"No. I just despise you far more than him. To be blunt, I could extract the knowledge from any of you; you simply provide the added opportunity to hurt you." Artemis sounded as casual as most would be over justifying their choice from the specials menu.

"That's a little impassioned for Artemis Fowl, don't you think?"

"Don't try to psychoanalyse me, Holly. My dark thoughts focus my ambitions and my actions: I'm far more effective with my hatred."

"If you say so."

"And what an earth is that supposed to mean, Miss Short?"

"Your actions are the _problem_,not the result. And -"

"Enough of this inane chatter!" – Artemis stopped her in her tracks with a few well-placed watts. "The numbers, now, and don't even think about lying to me."

"What will you do with it?"

Artemis was mildly annoyed by this: did she really think he was going to tell her? And couldn't she guess anyway? She must know that just ten minutes of free reign with the LEP's network would be enough for him to fulfil his own financial purposes, and wreak great havoc as an extra. (He was planning to leave a virus Foaly would _never _forget.) No, she already knew.

"That is none of your concern. Tell me the code."

"Artemis -"

"Tell me the code or die."

They were both talking faster now. "Artemis, what's wrong with you? You've tortured me with more of your disgusting human electricity than I can comprehend. But now… now you're asking me to… now you're asking me to betray my… to -"

"What's wrong with _me_, Holly? Nothing is wrong. Why, when the world has treated _me_ so viciously, must I humour _the world_ with my kindness? If the world wanted my affection, it had a funny way of asking. No, I will do what I wish; I will do what I must, and it is absurd to suggest that I shouldn't. Give me the numbers, or I will kill you."

What was he doing? – This was what she wanted. He mustn't talk to her. She was a parasite, nothing more. – Not worthy of his insight.

"Artemis?"

"NO, NO! That is _not_ my name. Not to you, not anymore. The codes!"

Butler had stopped watching ten minutes ago. He was praying to some obscure God, somewhere, that Artemis might find a morsel of mercy from inside himself, but he knew it would be fruitless.

There was a pause, as if Holly was considering her options. Artemis decided to speed up her thought processes, (and sway her towards his way of thinking); he pressed the switch to emit the second to highest electric shock. Holly cried out in pain, and there were blistered patches of skin smouldering near the straps, where her garments had been burnt.

"If I go up one more setting, it may cause serious brain damage, Holly."

Another pause.

"Last chance."

"Suppose I tell you," she murmured, "then what?"

"I would collect my gold, obviously. Then, of course, you would be free to go, after I have taken some _precautions_."

Butler winced, for he knew what was going through Artemis mind, and he knew what 'precautions' translated as, but Artemis, sensing this, raised a hand to mute him.

"Do you swear on Julius' name?" she asked, desperately hoping she would find the spark of decency that she believed lay dormant in his soul.

Artemis held back a smirk at her naivety, nodding in a flawless imitation of gravity. He knew what she was thinking: she thought the LEP would have made changes due to her rather sudden disappearance. But surely she must realise that the great Artemis Fowl could cover up for her absence; Foaly had received a very polite and immaculately believable audio email from Holly, explaining that she was taking a leave of absence for personal reasons. The codes Holly gave him – and he was quite certain she would give them, thinking they were useless – would be completely operational.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Artemis, I really don't."

Artemis shocked her again. "Stop stalling. Give me the number."

Holly quivered in agony, and then told him: "seven, one, two, four, eight, nine, one, zero."

Artemis glanced down, at the lie detector panel on his screen. He smirked in delight, not even at the wondrous uses and possibilities of the information, but at the cunning brutality of his acting. Oh, how stupid Holly was: relying on the mercy supposedly built into every human. That would have been stupid under normal circumstances. This was Artemis Fowl.

Never would a sweet, dark irony have entered her little mind: that torture was the only thing she had to live for.

Butler hung his head, wishing he had the will power to destroy Artemis once and for all.

"Why, thank you, Holly."

Artemis took out a small black revolver, and walked up to her. It fitted snugly in his gloved hands: Artemis had made sure of that before buying it. It was as if it was connected to him, but at the same time completely separate; he didn't have to feel the cool, hard metal to know its power – but it was the gun which killed, not him.

"Artemis," the reality that she had momentarily discovered earlier returned to Holly, and the truth dawned on her, "Artemis, what are you doing, Artemis…"

"Oh, Holly. Holly, Holly, Holly. What _have _you done?" he was whispering into her ear, his lips just skimming the surface of her skin.

Artemis had considered what he might do with her when he had finished… she was definitely pretty enough, and easy meat too. But if there was one cliché Artemis Fowl lived by: _Never Mix Business With Pleasure. _He'd already broken that rule a few too many times today; there was no way he was going to compound it with the untidiness of a rape.

She snapped at covered hand his hand: a caged animal, but he barely felt it, drawing away only momentarily to check the state of the leather.

He pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple; she closed her eyes, accepting that she was powerless, and almost pitied him.

"Butler, please. You can't let him… you can't!"

Butler's legs were too weary and his mind too old…

Artemis laughed and fired.

He paused to watch the blood pool on the padded chair's headrest and drip to the rough stone floor beneath it. Then he turned and strode out, saying to Butler, "Clean that up, will you."

Butler paused a moment, sucking in deep, painful doses of air, wallowing in his cowardice. It had never hurt quite this much before. He walked up to the table where Holly lay, limp and lifeless.

He bent low to Holly's body and pressed his lips against her red-stained forehead.

"He loved you once, Holly," he whispered through the tears. " He just lost his way, that's all; we all did."

He took out one of a handful of petite, yellow flowers from his pocket and slipped it inside her pocket

"Sixty-two, and counting," he mumbled, as a single tear trickled down his face, "For you, Juliet, even if you don't… For you."

He cradled her in his arms, as he went to dispose of her body.

**End **

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**Authors Note:**

I think this is the hardest I've ever worked on a piece, and I can honestly say I loved every second. It was really fun to write, and really fun to edit. I owe both of those facts to TWL.

I hope everyone got the characterization right, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. This was entered for both the 12 labours of Hercales and a monthly Criminality challenge. copy and paste both prompts:

Monthly challenge:

_Explore the **religious, moral** or **ethical views** of a canon character. How do these views help shape the character's actions? What events helped to shape these views in the character's childhood, past or present? _

_The fic must contain a scene of, or reference to one of the following: a **death**, or a **birth**, or a **gaoling/jailing**, or a **marriage**. _

Lily's original Fishwish:

_A fic with truely!evil!Artemis, doing truely!evil!deeds. No cutting corners or making everything alright in the end._

I'd adore some feed-back on this.

Mozzie.


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